


An Inside Look At A Main Line Society Apocalypse

by Emmy



Category: The Philadelphia Story
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmy/pseuds/Emmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The Philadelphia Story</i> ends with a wedding. What if it picked up again with a ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Intimate Yet Lively Reception

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiki-eng (kiki_eng)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_eng/gifts).



Mike Connor thought that the last minute substitution of C. K. Dexter Haven for George Kittredge in the pivotal role of groom might make Tracy’s guests kick up a fuss. He was wrong.

The ceremony went off with just one minor hitch - a Spy photographer who hadn’t gotten the message that the wedding was now off-limits. A junior footman had managed to make that perfectly clear, however, and everything had gone like a dream after that. The guests seemed to find the whole thing a delightful surprise, murmuring how like Tracy it was to keep everyone guessing and congratulating the newlyweds as if all the cards on the long table didn’t say “To Mr. and Mrs. George Kittredge.”

Uncle Willie, improving his admittedly low standing in Mike’s eyes, managed to pass Mike another of his concoctions between the ceremony and the reception. Mike hung onto the glass like grim death, but lost Liz to Margaret Lord. He found a corner to huddle in and watched Margaret blithely introduce her around as a friend of dear Junius. It kept her safe from Uncle Willie’s roving fingers, at least.

“Connor, you look positively hunted,” Dexter said, coming up to him with a champagne glass full of what looked to be orange juice.

“I feel it,” Mike said. “Sooner or later someone in the crowd will get a good look at my necktie and then this whole lot’ll start baying for my blood.”

“Nonsense,” Dexter said. “They wouldn’t dream of running you down without the proper attire themselves.”

“I gather boots and spurs are not considered acceptable wedding attire in polite society, then?” Mike drawled.

“No, we like to save those for the wedding night,” Dexter said, unblinking. Mike choked on his Uncle Willie special.

“C. K. Dexter Haven, your unsuspected depths run deep.”

Dexter bowed, his mocking smile softening as Tracy approached.

“Dext, there you are,” Tracy said, slipping her arm through his. “Mike, you really must try to rescue Liz. People keep asking her terribly specific questions about Argentina and I don’t think she’s ever been.”

“It’s hard to do that kind of jaunt on a photographer’s salary,” Mike retorted. Tracy’s face fell a little and he regretted his words. She couldn’t help that she’d been born rolling in the kind of dough that made a trip to Argentina seem like a weekend at the shore. “Aw, she’s worked for Spy, she can puff them off with a few lies.”

“Yes, but she wasn’t a writer,” Dexter pointed out.

“She is very good at getting out of tight spaces, however,” Mike said as Liz ducked over to join them with a look of relief on her face.

“Not without some casualties." Liz smoothed her skirt, standing with her back against the wall. Mike automatically looked about for Uncle Willie.

“Say, what goes on over there?” he asked. The other three turned to look. A tall man was staggering through the grass on the far side of the garden, his suit rumpled, and his expression disturbingly blank.

“I don’t know,” Dexter said, frowning.

“It’s not another of those dreadful photographers, is it?” Tracy asked, hands on her hips and a defiant look on her face. “Not you, of course,” she added in an aside to Liz.

“Yes, I’ve left all that behind me,” Liz said. “I think perhaps now I’ll go in for something safer and more respectable than photography, like lion-taming.”

“From the looks of it, that fellow’s going to wish he had a chair and a whip pretty darn soon,” Mike said as Tracy set off across the lawn, Dexter in hot pursuit.

“Tracy, let me handle this,” Dexter said, catching her up. “I haven’t chucked a camera since our honeymoon, it’ll be just like the good old times.”

“No, Dext.” Tracy stopped to face him. “I’m not being gotten out of things anymore. You’re going to have to let me share in the fun.”

“This time around I’m letting you share in everything,” Dexter promised, tucking her arm through his again. “Come on, Red, we’ll see who can scare him off first.”

“I didn’t realize we were getting dinner _and_ a show,” Liz said to Mike as they trailed along in Tracy’s wake.

“Guess they really do go all out for these things.”

“No wonder Tracy wanted a second one.”

Only as it turned out, neither Dexter nor Tracy got a chance to scare anyone. They were still several yards away when the man stumbled over a potted plant and fell over. Another guest who’d strayed from the party extended a hand to help him up-

“Good God!” Mike exclaimed. “Did that fellow just bite him?”

“It certainly looked like it,” Dexter said, stopping abruptly and pulling Tracy to a standstill as well.

“I don’t understand this,” Tracy said, staring wide-eyed. “Why would he do a thing like that?”

“Perhaps he was hungry,” Liz said dryly. “Or perhaps he’d _been_ thirsty.” Mike squinted at the fellow, who’d fallen over again. His face was oddly gray and the smell coming off of him wasn’t roses.

“I don’t think we can blame this one on champagne,” he said slowly.

“No, indeed,” Dexter said, a strange note in his voice. “I’m quite familiar with the effects of most alcohols, and this doesn’t look like any of them. It looks like-” he broke off, glancing around the reception. “Where’s Dinah, and Mother Lord?”

“Dinah tore her dress, Mother was taking her back to the house,” Tracy said. “But it’s not as if she could do anything, Dext. Why if these men are sick, we’ll get a doctor, and if they’re anything else we’ll have the footmen escort them out.”

“I think perhaps we should escort the rest of the guests to the house instead." Dexter took a step backwards, his gaze still fixed on the two men. Mike moved with him.

“Trouble in the wind, Haven?” he asked in a low voice.

“Not sure,” Dexter replied. “Let’s just say I don’t like the way the breeze is blowing.”

“I get you. Liz,” Mike said, turning to her, “what do you think about getting out of the sun?”

Whatever she said in return was drowned out by the screams.


	2. The Family Shares A Private Moment

Mike and Liz made for the music room to get out of the crush of guests pushing them towards the interior of the house.

“Where’s Tracy and Haven?” Mike searched the crowd.

There was a sudden crash, a cut-off scream, and a suspiciously expensive sounding smash. Mike turned sharply, but before he could do anything the crowd parted and Margaret Lord came bustling in their direction, dragging a reluctant Dinah.

“Let go, Mother!” Dinah struggled futilely against Margaret’s iron grip. “I want to see if Tracy socks him with the omelette dish again!”

“Someone get in who wasn’t on the guest list?” Mike asked, relieved to see them.

“Yes, but I believe-” There was another crash, and a gurgling noise that died away slowly. “-that the matter has been dealt with,” Margaret finished.

“For the moment,” Dexter said, carrying a lumpy bundle and following a pale but resolute Tracy into the room. She was still clutching a dented silver dish. “The servants and several of our more military guests are putting up barricades.”

“Have the penalties for gate-crashing gotten more severe, or is this even worse than I thought?” Mike asked as Dexter opened the bundle and started laying rifles on top of the piano.

“Quite possibly.” Dexter hesitated for a moment at the sight of Dinah perking up eagerly.

“She may as well hear it,” Tracy said, laying a hand on his arm. “If what you said is true, we’re in a jam that we can’t get anyone out of now, Dext.”

“Very well.” Dexter looked around at the little group. “ _Spy_ magazine has a story it never published on an outbreak of some kind of disease at an archaeological dig in Argentina. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say the symptoms line up surprisingly well with how those people out there are acting.”

“Is it smallpox?” Dinah interrupted. “Because I don’t want that now that Tracy’s married you instead of George.” Tracy smiled, putting an arm around her sister.

“Not smallpox,” Dexter said, still grave. “Fortunately, it’s transmitted by bites, not by air.” He hesitated again.

“And unfortunately?” Liz asked.

“Unfortunately there is no cure,” Dexter said. “And the symptoms include rather violent behavior, I’m afraid.”

“Hence the People’s Militia?” Mike asked, gesturing to the rifles with an airiness he didn’t feel.

“But how did it get here?” Margaret asked, her head tilted to one side. “Dexter dear, you’re not ill at all, and I don’t think anyone else has come from Argentina.”

“No, but you might have some guests from New York,” Dexter said. “And I happen to know a Dr. David Huxley who just received a shipment of Gigantosaurus carolini bones from Argentina. They were shipped on the same boat I traveled on and I think that’s the most likely source of the contamination. I’ll try to phone him directly, once we’ve set up defenses.”

“I just don’t know who would have allowed themselves to be bitten by a mindless, drooling _New Yorker-_ oh, _no._ ” Tracy clapped her hands over Dinah’s ears and stared wide-eyed at Margaret. “Mother, have you seen Father since the ceremony ended?”

“I haven’t,” Margaret said, looking worried. “Has anyone?”

“Ah,” Liz said, and everyone turned to look at her. “I’m afraid I have a nasty habit of noticing things. I saw him taking a stroll away from the gardens, and he wasn’t alone.”

“Let me guess,” Tracy said. “What his company lacked in brains, it made up for in legs.”

“Are you saying that Seth- that _my husband_ _-_ smuggled that chorus girl to my house, on the occasion of my daughter’s wedding?” Margaret Lord exclaimed, her voice rising. “I won’t have it. I simply won’t have it!”

“Mother-” Tracy started to say, but her mother waved her off.

“Tracy dear, hand me that rifle, will you?” Tracy caught the look on her mother’s face and wordlessly handed her the rifle. Dinah, released, looked from one face to the next.

“Can I have a gun too?” she asked.

“It’s _may_ I have a gun,” Margaret said, sighting along her barrel. “And yes, you may. Tracy, give her something without too much kick.”

 


	3. Departing For The Wedding Tour

“It’s the townspeople I’m worried about most,” Tracy announced, swanning into breakfast a few days later with a furrowed brow and flecks of dried blood on her riding boots. Mike followed her, brightening at the smell of coffee.

“I was most worried about Mike, but I see you’ve kept him from shooting himself again,” Liz said, the words doing nothing to diminish the warmth of her smile or the mug she handed him.

“No but I mean it, Liz,” Tracy said, accepting her own cup. “They haven’t got anything like the defenses we’ve established with the neighboring estates, and I’ve no idea at all what they’re doing for supplies or weapons. Why, they could be down to tins and stones! If this is to continue-” She broke off as Dexter entered the room. “Dext, is it to continue?”

“I’m afraid so, Red,” Dexter said, slipping an arm around her waist. “For a little while, at least.” He nodded at Mike. “Connor, your man in New York was able to broadcast. They’re working on vaccines and cures, but it’s likely they’ll get the vaccines first. Even so, it could be months. The President’s expected to extend the travel advisories on the eastern seaboard indefinitely, and they’re still trying to contain the situation in Europe.”

“Well, there goes my holiday in Paris,” Liz said.

“That settles it,” Tracy said decisively. “If it’s going to be months, we simply must do something about the townspeople, Dext.”

“Any idea where this is going?” Liz said, her voice low.

“I can’t tell if she wants to help them or hunt them down,” Mike whispered. Tracy was facing off against Dexter.

“It’s dangerous, Tracy,” he said.

“What’s dangerous?” Dinah asked, wandering in through the door before Tracy could reply. “Tray, are you back from patrol already? I think it’s mean that you don’t let me go. I’m a better shot than Mr. Connor.”

“Yes, but we’d miss you more than we’d miss him, Dinah dear,” Tracy said, shooting a warm smile at Mike over her sister’s head that took any potential sting out of her words.

“I suppose you’re right,” Dinah said, helping herself to coffee. “He can’t even play piano.”

“He’s also right here,” Mike said, “with two working ears.”

“So you already know you can’t play piano,” Dinah said, smiling winningly at him and stealing the last apple from the bowl.

“I think I liked her better in French,” Liz said, dry but amused.

“Just as long as I get to do the translations,” Mike muttered, but he reached out and mussed Dinah’s hair anyway. The girl had remained remarkably unfazed by her missing father and uncle, as well as occasional incursions by the infected. He’d gotten fond of her.

“A rescue party?” Mike looked over at the incredulity in Dexter’s words. “Tracy, we couldn’t-” Dexter continued, but Tracy cut him off.

“Why of course we could! We have plenty of ammunition, plenty of food, and if we can keep Thorton Montgomery III out of the wine cellars, we’ll have plenty of wine as well. Most of the wedding guests have gone to the other estates, so we’ve plenty of room too. And Dext, we have a _responsibility._ ”

Dexter sighed. “Red, the only thing more irritating than when you’re wrong and stubborn about it is when you’re right and stubborn about it.” He turned to Mike. “Connor, you might be a worse shot than Dinah, but I wouldn’t mind having you in this party.”

“I’ve never been known to turn down an invitation,” Mike said, flattered despite himself. “I assume drinks will be provided?”

“I consider flasks standard issue,” Dexter said. “You may fill them as you wish.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little orange juice mixed in mine,” Liz said.

“What?” Mike turned to stare at her. “Liz, you’re not going.”

“I might be useful,” Liz said. “Tracy’s been teaching me to shoot.”

“She has excellent focus,” Tracy said proudly, coming to stand beside Liz. “And really, Mike, you wouldn’t have her unable to defend herself, would you?”

“I suppose not,” Mike said. He didn’t want Liz helpless in the face of the infected, but he didn’t want her in danger on the rescue party, either.

“Don’t worry too hard,” Liz said. “Tracy’s much taller than I am. She’ll draw more attention.” Tracy laughed. Dexter didn’t look so amused.

“Then it’s all settled,” Tracy said, as brightly as if she were organizing a dinner party. “We’ll just figure out the details after lunch. Mother wants us all in the dining room promptly at noon.”


	4. Spreading Joy To All They Know

They went the next morning, taking two cars and quite a number of rifles. True to his word, Dexter handed out flasks. And true to form, Dinah tried to squeeze herself into backseats and trunks. Tracy removed her promptly each time.

“I don’t like it, Tracy,” Mike grumbled. They were bumping along in the car, ahead of Dexter and Liz. “I just don’t like it.”

“But Mike, we have to help them if we possibly can,” Tracy said patiently. “Why, my family’s lived here for generations. We can’t just abandon our neighbors.”

“I’m not arguing about that.” Mike slouched in the passenger seat. “I don’t like having you and Liz along, that’s all.”

“Why Mike, is our company so unbearable?” Tracy asked archly. “You seem quite attached to Liz, and I thought you were at least passingly fond of me.”

“That’s the trouble. I am,” Mike said. “But keep talking and maybe it’ll pass right by.”

Tracy would have doubtless continued, but they hit the edge of town -and their first infected.

“Keep driving, Tracy,” Mike called, leaning out of the window and taking aim. His first shot clipped the infected man’s shoulder, knocking him back a few steps. Another shot rang out from the following car, hitting the man dead center and dropping him at least temporarily. Mike turned to acknowledge Dexter’s hit with a brief wave.

“Eyes front, Connor,” Dexter called in response, motioning Liz to steer the car up next to Mike and Tracy. “Tracy, head for the library.”

“What, are you out of books to read at the house?” Mike shouted, hanging out of the window to keep an eye out for infected.

“It’s got the thickest walls.” Dexter was leaning out of his window too, both men scanning all around. “A good place to hole up, if anyone survived the initial outbreak and couldn’t leave town. If no one’s there, we can at least rescue a copy of your book.”

“They’ve only got a second edition,” Mike yelled back as Tracy swerved towards the library and Liz pulled closer to follow. “Not worth saving.”

“Yes, let’s focus on preserving the original instead,” Liz said tersely. “Mike, look out!”

Mike jerked around to face ahead. A clump of people were staggering out of a side street, lurching unheedingly over the broken glass and debris littering the ground.

“Hang on, Mike,” Tracy commanded. “I can’t slow down or they’ll catch us before we reach the library.” She swerved, Liz following somewhat less expertly but almost as fast. Mike braced himself as well as he could while lifting his shotgun. He and Dexter got off a few shots each, slowing the infected but not stopping them.

“Better make this quick,” Connor shouted. “Liz, hit the horn. Connor, I know you have powerful lungs. Care to use them?”

“Honored, CK!” Mike took a breath. Liz hit the horn briskly, and he bellowed out “Hulloooo! Anybody home?” Nothing happened. The library remained still and silent.

“Try again, Mike! Louder! Tracy was frowning, intent on the building.

“Last try, I’m afraid,” Dexter shouted, lifting his rifle again. “Those infected are getting closer.” Mike halloo’d again, and this time, very slowly, the front door creaked open.

“Hello there,” Tracy called. “Any survivors? We’ve come to help!” The door opened wider, and the librarian Mike had met stuck her head out. Her bun was mussed, her neat blouse in disarray, but she was very clearly not infected.

“Miss Tracy!” Another woman pushed out behind her. “Oh, Miss Tracy, you’re alive!”

“Of course I am!” Tracy sounded as if they shouldn’t have expected anything else. “How many of you are in there? Can you fit in the cars? Come on, you’ll be much safer at the estate with us!”

“Right away, Miss Tracy!”

“Hurry,” Dexter called, underscoring his words with a shot. Mike turned to help him as a ragged group scurried out - a few adults, some scared-looking children, and an older man hobbling briskly on a cane.

Tracy wheeled the car around, then promptly popped out of it to help the older man.

“Red, get back in the car,” Dexter shouted desperately. More infected, drawn by the commotion, were stumbling towards the square. Mike reloaded as fast as he could, but there were too many to scare off with gunfire.

“Haven, we’d better- Liz, what on earth are you doing?” Liz had followed Tracy and was hustling the children into the back seat of her car.

“It was such a nice day, I thought I’d go for a walk.” Liz tucked in the last child and slid back into the driver’s seat. “But if you’re in a hurry, we can take the car.”

“We’re in a hurry,” Dexter yelled. “Tracy, Liz, everyone in? This could be a bumpy ride.”

“I’ll say,” Mike muttered. He reloaded again, taking aim on the nearest group. Tracy revved the engine.

“Hang tight, Mike! Liz, follow me, I’ll try to clear a path.” She pressed her foot down, swerving from side to side with the survivors huddled in the back. Mike fired wildly into the crowd, unable to aim. It didn’t really matter. The infected were closing in on all sides.

One of them lunged for Liz’s car, getting a grip on the driver’s side door.

“Liz!” Mike couldn’t aim for the man, the cars were jerking around too much. “Haven, get him!”

Dexter leaned over the car and froze. “Uncle Willie?” Tracy’s head jerked up.

“Uncle Willie?” she echoed, her voice quavering. The man was just barely recognizable as Tracy’s dapper, champagne-swilling uncle under the deathly pallor and reddened eyes, but Mike could see it if he squinted. “Dext- we can’t- what about the cure?”

Mike swore under his breath. And then out loud, when Liz suddenly opened the door.

“Liz!” he yelped.

“Don’t worry, Mike,” Liz said tightly, still gripping the wheel even as Uncle Willie got hold of the door with both hands. As his gray fingers curled around the edge, she slammed the door just as suddenly as she’d opened it. “I just thought it was about time I pinched back.” Uncle Willie fell off the edge of the car, whimpering, and both Tracy and Liz accelerated.

The next few moments were madness, Dexter and Mike firing into the crowd as the survivors cowered and Tracy and Liz drove wildly towards the estate. By the time they reached the edge of town, they’d outpaced most of the infected and the last few were chased off by Dexter and Mike’s shots. The survivors managed a weak cheer as the infected fell back.

“Liz,” Mike hollered to her, leaning as far out of the window as he dared. “You really are the darndest girl, but don’t ever do that again!”

“I can’t really make any promises.” Liz was pale but still keeping up with Tracy. “These are uncertain times, after all.”

“No?” Mike asked, reckless. “What if I asked you to promise to marry me? Because I’m certain it’s about time.” Both cars jerked, Tracy throwing up her hands to say “Oh, how wonderful” and then grabbing for the wheel again and Liz letting go entirely as she stared up at Mike.

“Mike, do you mean that?”

“I do. And I’ll say that again as soon as we get back to the house and dig up a priest.”


End file.
